


Salvation

by KoreArabin



Series: Redemption [2]
Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoreArabin/pseuds/KoreArabin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robin, Much and Allan discover Gisborne in the dungeons of Nottingham Castle in the aftermath of "All The World's A Stage" and decide to rescue him.</p><p>This will play fast and loose with the plot of the TV series, and will follow Gisborne's gradual acceptance into Robin's gang of outlaws.</p><p>Tags and warnings will change as the story develops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Much, Allan, keep the noise down! We don’t want wind of this getting back to Isabella or Prince John.”

Much huffs, the saddlebags slung over his shoulder chinking softly. “That’s all very well, Robin, but these bags of coins are really heavy.”

“I know, I know, but just keep it down, lads, yeah?”

They creep as quietly as possible through the dark, labyrinthine tunnels below the castle, starting every so often at the hiss or spit of a torch in its bracket, and stilling completely whenever they hear the slightest hint of a footfall or a voice.

Robin whispers to the two men following him. “It’ll be quickest if we cut through the dungeons and take the lower tunnel out to the river. John and Kate'll be ready by the stone bridge, and Tuck's keeping a lookout on the Locksley road.”

“But we’re more likely to meet guards in the dungeons, Robin. The other tunnel’s longer, but it’ll be safer.”

“Much, it’s the middle of the night. No-one’s going to be around in the dungeons, except a few prisoners and some rats. Come on, it’ll be quicker and these bags are getting bloody heavy.”

The air feels colder and danker as they venture deeper beneath the castle, heading for the secret tunnel leading out to the river. As they emerge from one of the stone passageways into the heart of the dungeon area, Much and Allan virtually collide with Robin as he pulls up sharply, lifting his hand to signal them to stop.

The room is dark, lit only by a couple of stuttering torches on the verge of burning out, but the pale figure slumped over on the platform is visible enough. Inching nearer, Robin can see that it is a man, and that he is chained down over a block of some sort and appears to be unconscious. His face is obscured by a mane of black hair, but his body is covered with livid welts, cuts and bruises.

Smoothing back the hair, Robin lets out a low whistle of surprise. “It’s Gisborne. But what the hell’s happened to him?”

The face which they’ve seen so often twisted into a mocking sneer or a superior smirk is as bruised as the body, covered in cuts, one eye swollen shut. But what most horrifies them is Gisborne’s mouth, surrounded by and covered in dark, dried blood, which has also run down over his chin to form a drying, viscous, pool on the platform beneath him.

Much swallows, his voice low and thick. “Robin, come and look at this.”

Circling round to the back of the platform, Allan gasps aloud and Robin grits his teeth and whistles low again. The blood on Gisborne’s thighs and in a pool on the platform below him tells its own story.

“Christ, someone really has done a number on him. Much – is he breathing? He’s lost one hell of a lot of blood.”

“Yes, Robin, but barely. He needs treatment fast. If we could get him to Tuck – “

“Not bein’ funny, Much, but what are you on about? Why should we help Gisborne? He deserves everything he gets.”

Robin shakes his head. “Normally, Allan, I’d agree with you, but not even Gisborne deserves this. He’s been beaten and tortured and God knows what else, and I’m not just going to leave him here. The Sheriff’s dead and Gisborne’s on his own now – he’s not the threat to us he was. God knows I don’t like it, but I’m not going to just leave him here to die.”

Allan shrugs. “Yeah, OK, but how’re we goin’ to get him out of here?”

“Get those shackles off and see if you can rouse him. Much – get some water and see if there’s anything we can cover him up with.”

The manacles prove surprisingly easy to deal with, a ring of keys hanging rather prominently on the wall opposite the platform.

"It's as if they left the keys there to taunt him, in full view but just out of reach."

Robin grimaces. "I think you're right, Much. Just one more thing to torture him with. Gisborne's been a right bastard - no-one can argue with that - but we'd be as bad as he is to leave him here to this."

"Oi, Much, 'ere's some water, and some wine."

"Thanks, Allan. That's a turn up for the books. I'll see if a draught of the wine'll revive him."

Much begins carefully to clean away the blood surrounding Gisborne's mouth. "His lips and tongue are in a bad way, Robin, split and swollen, and the edges of his mouth have been rubbed raw."

Robin frowns, leaning forward to get a better view. "Jesus. Just do what you can do, Much, then give him the wine."

Much holds a goblet to Gisborne's mouth, tipping a mouthful of the dark red wine into his mouth. Gisborne swallows, then retches, his eyes fluttering open, unfocussed, limbs flailing.

"Noooooooo!" Thankfully Gisborne's howl of anguish is muted, his voice hoarse and cracked. He continues to struggle, trying to shout.

"No more, please, no more. Please, dear God, no more."

Robin grasps Gisborne's face in his hands. "Gisborne. _Guy_. It's me, Robin. We're going to help you. Stop struggling - can you stand?"

Gisborne stares blankly at Robin, his face taut with fear and panic until, suddenly, there is a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

"L-Locksley? What are - Why? Why are you helping me?"

"Because, Gisborne, we are not going to leave even you here to be tortured to death. So, come on, man. We have to get going."


	2. Chapter 2

All they can find to cover Gisborne is the embroidered linen cloth from the table which holds the wine and food, which just about covers Gisborne's modesty. As he's so much bigger than any of them, the only other comfort Robin can give him is his own leather jerkin, tied over Gisborne's shoulders to at least give him a little warmth.

Their main concern though is their painfully slow progress down to the river. Gisborne is weak and in pain, and only able to continue leaning heavily on their shoulders and supported around the waist. With Gisborne's weight added to the heavy coin-filled saddle bags, they press forward as quickly as they can.

"Come on, lads, not much further now. Once we get to the river, John can help with Gisborne and Kate'll carry some of the coins."

To Robin's surprise, even Allan doesn't raise a complaint, but grits his teeth as he pulls Gisborne's arm tighter over his shoulder and pushes on, panting heavily. At last they see a faint silvery flicker in the distance, as the reeds of the riverbank sway gently in the moonlight, and hurry on as fast as they can. The river's ripples sparkle as they hurry, keeping low beside the reeds, along the bank to where the market track to Nottingham crosses the old stone bridge.

John and Kate are thankfully waiting exactly where arranged, still and silent in the reeds beside the bridge, and Robin gives their soft owl's hoot signal in greeting. Two shadows move steathily forwards to where the four of them are couched in the ditch beside the market track.

John's voice is low and urgent. "Where've ye been? We thought ye'd been captured. Ye've been gone ages."

Kate whispers as she settles beside Robin. "What's this, Robin? Who've you got with you?"

Robin hesitates, his memory of Kate's heartbreak at the death of her brother all too vivid in his mind. "Kate, listen - it's Gisborne. We found him in the dungeons, and he's in a bad way. He's been tortured, and he's very weak. We couldn't leave him there."

Kate's eyes are bright and fierce, even in the pale moonlight. "Why not? He tortures and kills without remorse, remember, Robin? He deserves all he gets."

Robin leans forward, his face close to Kate's. "Kate, I'm not going to argue about it. We need to get away from here - fast. We've already taken far too long to get out of the castle, and we need to get up to the Locksley road and find Tuck, and we can discuss _this_ once we're safe back at camp."

Kate looks mutinous, but says no more, picking up one of the saddle bags as John manoeuvres Gisborne across his back. Gisborne appears to have lost consciousness, his eyes closed and his breathing rapid and shallow. They follow Robin in silence, across the bridge and into the shelter of the low hanging willows on the other bank, pressing on for the point where they can branch away from the river and head deeper into the forest before reaching the Locksley road. 

Robin's heart is pounding as they press on, the first signs of the rosy fingered dawn beginning to lighten the sky. They must be well beyond the road before dawn begins to break in earnest, as they have no way of telling whether the theft of the gold or, indeed, Gisborne's absence has been discovered. As soon as either is noticed, the area surrounding the castle will be swarming with soldiers and, whilst laden only with the gold they would have little difficulty melting away into the trees as they have so many times before, with a large, unconsciousness, Gisborne in tow this is going to prove far more problematic.

John is forging forward, head down, snorting like a bull, intent on the way ahead, and Robin thanks his guardian angels for the big man's hard-headed determination. He knows that none of his company are happy with the turn of events, but all are dedicated and loyal enough to follow him out of danger without question, even though they may all have a lot to say about it once they reach the sanctuary of the camp.

As they near the Locksley road, they slow down, moving steathily and soundlessly through the trees, listening hard for the sound of horses or troops, but all is still in the gradually lightening forest. A soft owl's call sounds nearby and then suddenly Tuck is alongside them, totally invisible before appearing seamlessly from the trees.

"Gods, Robin, you're late. And you have - _Gisborne_ \- with you? What is going on?"

"Aye, and he's a bloody heavy beggar, at that." John lowers Gisborne gently to the ground, taking a moment to stretch his back and crack his neck.

"Tuck, I'll tell you everything once we're back at camp, but we just need to keep moving. It's getting lighter by the minute and we can't be out of cover if the castle soldiers turn up."

"Agreed. Give me something to carry - come on, we'll move faster if we spread the load amongst us. Although you, my friend," Tuck smiles as he turns to John, "have certainly drawn the short straw this time."


	3. Chapter 3

They cross the Locksley road cautiously, but thankfully there’s neither sight nor sound of any soldiers in the area, and all begin to breathe easier as they’re swallowed up once again in the depths of the forest, and they draw near to the camp. Once inside, John lowers Gisborne to the floor with a groan, and the others pile the saddle bags beside him, panting with exertion and relief.

Tuck is the first to speak. “Please, carry him through to the shelter and place him on my bunk. He needs to be treated as soon as possible if I am to heal him.”

Between them, Much, Allan and John lift Gisborne as gently as possible and carry him through to Tuck’s quarters and lay him down on the bunk. Gisborne is still unconscious, and his skin is ashen and covered in a cold sheen of perspiration. Carefully, Tuck un-knots Robin’s jerkin from his shoulders and begins to examine him, checking systematically for injuries. 

“And why do we want him healed?” Kate rounds on Robin, her eyes once again flashing defiance.

“I held my tongue as you asked, earlier, but I don’t understand why we’re saving him. He killed Matthew without a second thought, right in front of me, Robin. He doesn’t deserve our help. He doesn’t deserve to _live_ after what he’s done!”

Robin takes Kate’s face in his hands gently and looks into her eyes. “I understand, Kate. I do. He took Marian from me. He’s done so many things to hurt us – all of us. But we have to be better than that, Kate. We have to do what’s right, for the villagers, for the King, for England, and for us. And what’s right here is to help Gisborne.

He’s my sworn enemy – has been since we were lads – but I cannot leave him to tortured to death by those bastards in the castle.”

Kate looks down, her eyes full of tears. “I know, Robin, I do know. But whenever I see Gisborne, I see Matthew – I see his face as the life went out of him, and I feel so sad and so angry, and I hate him so much for what he did…”

“Shush, shush, here, come on, it’s OK to cry. It’s OK to be angry, Kate. I was mad with it when we got back from the Holy Land. I wanted Gisborne’s blood, and I didn’t care about anything else – not the villagers, not the King, not even Much and John and Allan. But what a little time to reflect has taught me is that the old saying is true: an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind. There’s got to be a better way, Kate.”

Kate nods, reluctantly pulling away from Robin and wiping her tears on her sleeves. “You’re right, Robin, I know you are. C’mon, Tuck’s busy, so I’ll get a fire going and get us all something hot to eat.”

“Robin!”

Tuck’s face is grave as Robin ducks under the low overhanging entrance to his quarters. Gisborne is now face down on the bunk, his head turned to the side and one leg slightly bent, the thigh pushed up and outwards.

“What is it, Tuck?”

“There is no easy way to say this, so I shall just say it. He has been violated, quite forcefully, with some form of implement, something thick and hard. He is quite badly torn, and he’s lost a lot of blood.”

“You mean he’s been fucked?”

“I would not have put it quite so bluntly, but no. He has been sodomised, yes, but the amount of damage would suggest that it was not by a man, or even by multiple men, as there is no evidence of spend in with the blood.”

Robin shakes his head, his mouth set in a grim line, visibly shaken. 

“Those bastards. I mean, we knew Prince John was a nasty piece of work from that wedding day in Locksley, but _Isabella_? She’s as devious as a snake, and as slippery as an eel, but I’d never have thought she’d allow something like this to happen to Gisborne. He’s her brother, for God’s sake!”

“Perhaps she didn’t know, Robin. Until Gisborne wakes, we don’t know _who_ did this to him.”

“Will he wake, Tuck? Can you heal him?”

Tuck smiles wryly. “I have staunched the bleeding, and treated the injuries I can see, but there may be further damage inside him. Once he wakens, I can give him herbal tinctures to promote healing but, til then, we simply keep him warm, and wait.”


	4. Chapter 4

Tuck sits, still and pensive in the flickering light of the brazier, his chin resting on his clasped hands, watching his patient sleep. Gisborne's slumbers have been anything but pleasant; as the initial stupor of the shock and pain he has endured has begun to subside, his sleep has become increasingly fitful.

He has cleaned what he can see of Gisborne's injuries with fresh water and vinegar, and applied a cabbage poultice to draw out any infection, but the signs are not encouraging.

Tuck has seen it before, this disorder of the humours, of the _blood_ , the days of fever it produces, and the immense pain endured by the afflicted. Gisborne's fever has abated, and now he shivers through waves of cold chill after cold chill, his teeth chattering, his skin deathly pale.

Robin shares the watch with him. "Will he survive, Tuck? What can we do?"

Tuck pats Robin's knee, a rueful turn to his expression. "I have seen this before, Robin. It is an illness that often follows when blood has been spilled and the patient has sustained a wound. First this - the cold and the quaking shivers. We can only keep him warm and watch over him. Next there will be fever and we must keep Gisborne as cool as we can, if he is to have a chance of living. After that, there will be more fever, fitful sleep and waking, and then, if the fever breaks, he may survive."

"And if it doesn't, Tuck? What then?"

Tuck meets Robin's gaze, his eyes full of concern. "If the fever does not break, then I fear that Gisborne will not survive to see another sunrise."

oOo

As Tuck predicts, Gisborne's chills and shivers give way to a raging fever. Tuck, Robin and Kate sit with him, bathing his body with cool water, and soothing his forehead when the fever dreams tear through him.

Kate is pale, shaken by the sight of the once tall, powerful, knight laid so low by his sickness.

"Can't you do more for him, Tuck? Can't you bleed him? That's what my Mam always says the doctors say's the best cure?"

Tuck shakes his head, sadly. "We are told by the ancients that blood-letting restores the humours, but my experience has taught me that whether a man be choleric, or sanguine, or phlegmatic, or melancholy, he will suffer the same illnesses and be cured by the same means. There is nothing that we can do for Gisborne now but pray."

The third night is the worst. Gisborne spends the entire night moaning through fitful sleep, his dreams twisted by fever, scrabbling at the sheets and crying out in torment. 

oOo

The gloom of the dungeon is really too thick to make out much of the man kneeling chained in the dank oubliette. The faint glow of pale skin beneath a tangled thatch of dirty, matted, black hair is all that really can be seen. Leaning forward, Vaisey brings his torch to the bars, and the man lifts his head. Even in the murky light, the brilliant blue of his eyes is evident, as is the strong line of his jaw and the arrogant tilt of his head.

Yet the man's actions do not match his appearance. He sighs, his head sinking back down to his chest.

"Nothing to say for yourself, Gisborne, hmmmm?"

When the man below remains silent, Vaisey scrapes the end of the torch over the bars, sending a volley of sparks showering down on to the prisoner.

Gisborne raises his head, and speaks in a low, strained voice. "I've nothing to say to you."

"Should that not be "I've nothing to say to you, _my lord_ "? You are speaking to me, Vaisey; one-time Sheriff of this city; your liege lord, _Gisborne_. The man who loved you like a son. The man you _murdered_."

Gisborne looks up again, his face drawn, the shadows below his eyes and the hollowness of his cheeks making him appear far older than his five-and-thirty odd years.

"You never loved me. You loved only yourself. I did what I had to do, and I failed, as I have failed in everything I have ever done in my life. Do what you wish to me; my life is over. I have nothing more to say to you; nothing to say to any of you."

oOo

"Nothing! Nothing! No! Leave me! Leave me be! You're dead! Sweet Jesus, please!"

Gisborne's cries rouse Robin who, having taken the latest watch, had started to doze as the hours passed.

"Guy? You're safe, Guy. It's Robin. You're safe - you're in the forest."

Gisborne's face contorts with emotion and his long groan of anguish slowly fades to a sigh of relief as his eyes gradually flutter open and focus on Robin.

"Locksley? You - again? _Robin?_ "

"Shush, Guy, you're safe, with me, in the forest."

Gisborne looks around wildly, trying to sit up but too weak from his illness to do more than flail uselessly.

"Vaisey? Isabella? _The dungeons?_ " His voice fades away to a choking sob. "The dungeons...."

Robin leans forward, taking the face of his boyhood friend, turned adult enemy, now possible ally, in his hands.

"We rescued you from the castle, Guy. You are _safe_ here. Tuck - the friar you met after we came back from the Holy Land - has tended your sickness. You have been very ill, Guy, but I think the worst is past."

Seeing Gisborne's eyelids begin to flicker closed once more, Robin strokes the sweat-soaked tendrils of hair back from his face.

"That's it, come on, sleep now. You're safe, Guy, safe."

And as Gisborne once again drifts off to a far more restful sleep, his face turned into the warmth of Robin's palm, Robin hopes that he may come to believe him.


End file.
